


Interruptions

by BlueColoredDreams



Series: String Theory [12]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Awkward Sex, Dogs are weird, F/M, Oral Sex, Post-Canon, Silly fluffy sex, Wall Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-08
Updated: 2017-12-08
Packaged: 2019-02-11 18:53:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12941550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BlueColoredDreams/pseuds/BlueColoredDreams
Summary: Magnus and Lucretia learn an unfortunate lesson in dog ownership.





	Interruptions

**Author's Note:**

> Day six of magcretia week: free day! 
> 
> Definitely post-Down in the Valley, references Scars and Stories from earlier this week. Luckily (?) this one was completed before time!

After months of talking, reconciliation, and negotiation, she and Magnus had finally gone on a date—a really, really good one. Followed by a very, very good night. But then, they’d had to part afterwards, and their schedules made it hard to meet up. They call and have quick lunches, which turn into quick kisses and late meetings, but it’s not enough for either of them.

So when both of their weekends free up, they know exactly how to spend it: holed up in Magnus’ home in Ravens’ Roost, just them… and all the dogs.

Normally, the dogs don’t bother Lucretia one bit. She got used to the veritable pack that Magnus keeps, along with the ever-rotating menagerie of fosters.

In  a lot of ways, they're her dogs too; they bother her for treats and walks and attention just like they pester Magnus. She knows where their food is, when it’s time for them to be walked, and even which dog likes which toys. Johann is as much of her own as Muffin is, much to Muffin’s eternal chagrin.

It’s only Friday afternoon, and there’s already been two scuffles over command of her lap. (Embarrassingly enough, Magnus was involved in the second, ending up with a tail over his eyes and paws on his cheeks as Muffin and Johann both tried for prime ear-scratching real estate the second he’d put his head in her lap.) Normally, it doesn’t bother her at all.

Normally. But right now?

Right now, the dogs are really bothering her. She’s not sure _when_ they migrated into the bedroom—she won’t even ask _how_ , she knows neither of them closed the door—but they’re there now, they’re not happy, and because of them, she can’t fully concentrate on the feeling of Magnus’ tongue on her.

She would very much like to concentrate on that.

She grips her fingers in Magnus's hair, sheets slipping down to pool against her stomach as he shifts, nuzzling his nose against her clit. He slips two fingers into her, crooking them just so as he draws them back. She jerks and groans, tugging at his hair as he thrusts back into her, pressing a soft kiss against her clit.

Beside the bed, Muffin starts to growl, setting off one of the other dogs. As if staring wasn’t distracting enough.

"Magnus, stop—the dogs," she pants. Her thigh jerks against his cheek as he presses against her as he draws his fingers out.

"Pull the sheet back up," he says, voice hoarse and muffled.

She untangles her fingers from his hair and tugs it back over her, and he nuzzles against her thigh, tickling her with his sideburns. She peeks down at him and giggles, the sheet forming a tent around them as she holds her hand up.

She drops her hand and lets the sheet settle around them, and Magnus reaches out and spreads her wider, lifting her thighs up. He licks from her entrance to her clit, tongue flat against her. She shudders and lifts her hips against his face, curling her toes in delight as he circles her with the tip of his tongue, once then twice; again and again until she's nearly sobbing, grinding up against him, his chin putting pressure against her where she aches for more.

He sucks at her and she makes a noise that's almost a shout and one of the dogs howls. The sheets are drug away from them, first in a slow inch, then all at once, Muffin and Noelle tangled in them on the floor.

"For fuck's sake," Magnus sighs.

She groans, hitting her head back against the pillows. "Magnus, do something about them," she complains.

"Ignore them, they'll stop," Magnus murmurs against her stomach, hands petting up and down her sides.

"Will they? We’ve _been_ ignoring them.”

"I don't know," he admits, kissing across the lowermost scar on her stomach, then up against the underside of her breasts, sliding his hands under her to cradle her against him, hips lining up as he slides between her lips.

"Mmph, Magnus, really?" She admonishes, voice dissolving into a quiet moan as he rocks against her.

He kisses her neck, and she tips her head back, eyes closed as she groans, hand fumbling between them. Heat builds in her stomach as he slides against her clit, just barely enough to set her off. She takes him into her hand, thumb rubbing slow circles at his base as she lines them up.

He's just barely sheathed inside of her when there's a thud against the bed, and a series of sharp yips from Muffin.

She flops back and looks over at Muffin, laughing.

"Muffin, down. I'm fine girl," she murmurs, voice hitching as Magnus grips her ass and lifts her hips to his, chuckling softly.

He grinds into her and she gives a soft hiccup of a moan, body arching back into him.

Muffin doesn't buy it. She supposes it sounds like she’s in some sort of distress, from the dog’s point of view. She sighs. "Magnus, stop."

He groans and pulls out, rolling into his back. She shivers, feeling very empty and cold. She rubs her thighs together, watching as he scrubs his hand over his face.

"Dammit, I'm sorry, Lucy."

She pats his stomach, a movement that starts innocent but ends with her idly petting over his hip, rubbing the soft skin there.

"I mean, it makes sense this ended up an issue. It's pretty different for them. Go lock 'em in the kitchen."

Magnus groans and rolls onto his side, shuffling up close to her. He kisses her cheek, then her jaw, hand on her belly. He swipes his thumb right over the sensitive line of flesh under her stomach above her hips, and then curls his fingers over her, cupping his hand just so. She shifts, and his fingers tease over her clit.

A slow grin creeps across his mouth as she rocks into the touch. He gently taps his middle finger against her and she gasps, fingers curling tight into the sheets. He noses her neck, pressing against her without moving.

“Magnus, Magnus,” Lucretia whines, and then rolls so she can press her body flush to his.

He grabs her ass, pulling her to him as she winds her fingers into his hair, kissing him slowly. He rocks against her and she hooks her thigh against his hip, echoing the movement. It’s a wonderful distraction from the dogs—Magnus hot against her stomach and his hands kneading into her ass, their mouths slick and open against each other’s as they pant and whine with each circle of hips—until the bed dips again and Muffin puts two paws on Lucretia’s side.

“Down!” Magnus says in exasperation. “Down, girl!”

“Who me?” Lucretia giggles as she snakes a hand between them. She curls her fingers around Magnus, stroking slowly.

“The-the _dog_ —Bad girl!”

“Me?” Lucretia repeats as Magnus’ voice shakes on the command, dissolving into a weak moan.

She turns, looking up at Muffin with a grin.

“She’s not a bad girl, she’s been trained to be protective,” she coos at Muffin. Muffin nudges her cheek and Lucretia kisses her snout—much to Magnus’ protest. She tightens her fingers just so on the downward stroke and he groans, low and throaty. “Down, Muffin. Down.”

Muffin backs up, but parks herself at the edge of the bed, staring at them both. She gives the soft whine that Lucretia recognizes as her warning for when Muffin has decided the situation is a stressor on her owner.

“Whoops,” Lucretia laughs. “Looks like somebody got trained a little too well.”

Magnus gives an indistinct grumble of annoyance.

Lucretia kisses Magnus’ cheek, stroking him slowly. “You got so busy thinking with this,” she murmurs, rubbing her thumb over his head for emphasis. “We forgot about them. Let’s go, yeah?”

“Lucy,” Magnus moans. His stomach tenses and he shakes. “Lucy, please.”

She draws her hand back and pats his thigh, sitting up slowly. “Let’s hurry,” she murmurs, stretching her back out and raising her hands over her head. She catches him watching her, and she makes a show of it, arching her chest out to pop her spine and sighing happily. “Mm, Magnus?” she prompts with a sly smile.

She feels warm under Magnus’ hungry gaze, a pleased self-conscious flush—she knows she doesn’t look anything like she did when they were young. She’s thinner, her muscles more wiry, and she’s covered with scars from her years alone (she tries not to think about her breasts or the way her knuckles are more prominent than ever before)—but he’s still looking at her like this, with raw desire, that his hands and eyes don’t skirt over the damage to her body.  

She takes comfort in that he, too, has changed. Scars litter his body too, silvery against his skin and through his hair; his stomach and his arms and thighs are softer and his hands rougher and he’s all the more handsome for it.

“Hey there, rowdy girl,” he murmurs reverently, skimming his hands up her body as he sits up. He cups her face between his hands, thumbs tracing her cheeks as he grins at her. The look on his face is almost silly, an awed childish happiness that only he can summon up, and Lucretia’s throat tightens.

She covers his hands with her own, grinning right back. “Hey, rowdy boy,” she replies. “Let’s go distract your dogs.”

“I think they count as yours too,” Magnus laughs. He pats her cheeks and grabs her hands, squeezing them briefly before swinging his legs off the bed and whistling loudly. “Alright you guys, food! Food!”

The dogs all perk up and scrabble towards the bedroom door, galloping out. Muffin remains poised beside Lucretia. She pats her on the head and slides from the bed, grabbing Magnus’ discarded flannel and shrugs it on.

Magnus turns and looks and groans. “Lucy, that’s not fair.”

She rolls up the sleeves and smoothes the shirt out over her hips. “It’s cold.”

“It isn’t,” Magnus replies questioningly. “Oh—oh, you’re. Okay, well. Um, cool. We’re flirting, cool. I can warm you up.”

Lucretia laughs and pats his ass as she passes, snapping for Muffin to follow her.

“You _really_ aren’t thinking with your brain, are you?” she teases.

She squeaks when Magnus scoops her up from behind, burying his face against her neck.

“How could I?” he mumbles, hands roaming the front of her body. He presses his hips up against her and cups a breast in one hand, the other warm and wide against her stomach. He ruts up against her ass, hand working roughly against her breast, massaging and rubbing circles.

She groans, weak at the knees. “Magnus, we only made it one step out of the room,” she admonishes. She clenches herself as he walks her forward, her forehead pressing against the wall. She aches for him, and she’s so wet she can feel it between her thighs. She grabs his arm, groaning as he drops both hands to her waist.

She lets him turn her easily, and then shrieks suddenly as he lifts her, caging her against the wall.

“Magnus—Magnus, I’m not young anymore,” she whispers quickly, but he presses his face to her neck, his hands tight on her ass. He spreads her open and she hooks her ankles behind his back, shuddering at the sudden exposure.

She knocks her head back up against the wall as he thrusts into her, her back arching forward into him. She rocks the best she can, but he keeps a tight hold on her as he moves, once and twice, then he grinds into her and she cries out.

The dogs, having forgotten Magnus’ promise of food start to bark again at the noise. Muffin whines. Johann yips at the other dogs for making noise. A few of the dogs start running back and forth in the hallway, thinking it’s a game.

“Fuck,” she sighs. “ _Fuck_ , Magnus—”

“ _Ugh_.”

He presses up sharply against her, hips working quickly. She shakes, feeling hot and weak as he pounds into her. She hears her voice as if it were far away—loud and sharp as she claws at Magnus’ back as he tries to work them both to orgasm as fast and hard as he can.

Someone starts howling and he falls still as he drops his head to her shoulder. “I can’t—”

“I know,” she mumbles mournfully, feeling fuzzy and warm, need tight in her gut. Magnus pulls out and gently lowers her, but her legs tremble and she shakes her head at him. “I wish I could though, _god_.”

“You good?” he asks as he turns. “Get on, Lucy.”

“I’d rather hop a different ride,” she murmurs, opting to lean into his side rather than be given a piggyback.

“Fuck, please,” he groans. “Do you know how much I’ve been looking forward to this weekend? All the things I _finally_ have time to do with you?”

She squeezes his side, nuzzling her cheek against his chest as they make their way down the stairs. “If it’s even half as much as I have, then a damn lot.”

He laughs, the sound deep and loud against her ear, and she grins up at him. He stops, leaning down to kiss her, his hand tight on her hip. She reaches up and cups his cheek, turning on her toes to slide her mouth open against his. If he had meant the kiss to be chaste, it’s anything but, with his hands on her ass and hers tight in his hair, drawing a deep whine from his throat.

“Luce,” he murmurs, dragging his mouth down in a wet line from her lips to her jaw.

She giggles as his hair tickles her cheek as he bends forward to kiss her neck and shoulders, pressing her flush to him.

A wet nose nudges at her ankles and Magnus sighs deeply against her clavicle. “Dogs,” he mutters, sounding mournful about their existence for the first time. 

“Dogs,” she agrees, stepping back. Her knees have regained some of their solidness, so she leads him backwards, laughing as she trips over a dog only to have Magnus catch her by the small of her back. He holds her like he’s dipping her in a waltz, grinning down at her as she clutches his arms.

“Listen, if you beef it, there’s no sex,” he murmurs, grinning at her.

“How dreadful.”

His grin widens to all teeth and wrinkled eyes and she can’t bear the fondness and need that wells up in her. “Dogs, food, now,” she says.

He laughs and hoists her up into his arms, carrying her the rest of the way to the kitchen. He sets her carefully atop the counter, hands dragging over her slowly. “Who’d have thought I’d be able to reduce you to three word sentences,” he muses.

“You,” she sighs, leaning back onto his hands as his mouth descends on her sternum. She gives a high pitched giggle, toes curling as his mouth slides down her chest and belly to her pubic bone, his hands on the insides of her thighs. “Oh, hey, _oh_ —“

“Mm-hmm,” he hums, spreading her open to kiss her clit. “You sit pretty like this Luce,” he whispers against her, running his tongue against her entrance.

He fucks into her with his tongue, hauling her against his mouth with his hands under her thighs. She’s wet and messy from all their attempts, taste thick and heady against his tongue. He sighs happily as she moans, thighs tense against his fingers. He kisses her again and pats her thighs, drawing back to grin at her dazed expression.

He draws back and she grabs his hand, drawing him back in. He laughs softly, cupping her face between his palms. “Dogs, remember?”

She closes her eyes and he kisses her, thumbs stroking her cheeks. “I know,” he whispers, “It’ll be quick.”

“’Kay.”

He kisses her again and steps back, giving her a rueful grin as she looks at him and sighs. He turns and claps his hands together, “Okay, guys! Food!”

He hears Lucretia laugh as all the dogs swarm around him with various degrees of snuffling and whining. He scoops food from the barrel he keeps it in, distributing it to each bowl. He opens up the door to the backyard, then waits a few seconds to make sure every dog is occupied with food or the promise of the doggy play area in the backyard. He sets the food scoop down and looks at Lucretia, flashing a thumbs up.

She laughs and hops off of the counter, reaching for his hand.

She winds her fingers into his own and tugs him from the kitchen; he pulls the door closed behind him, making sure it’s secure in the frame before letting Lucretia tug him on. To his surprise, she pulls him to the sofa instead of the stairs to the loft area.

“Here?” he laughs, “Really?”

“Yeah,” she breathes, pushing him into the sofa’s cushions. He falls easily, and she sits on him, hands wound tight into his hair as she kisses him.

He groans into her mouth, reaching down and under his shirt to her ass, spreading her up against him. She shuffles forward just so and sinks onto him and they both sigh a slow moan as she takes his length into her. She lifts her knees and sinks again, then rocks her hips in a slow circle.

“Luce,” he groans. She bites down on her lip and tugs his hair a little, bouncing shallowly on him. “Luce.”

“C’mon,” she murmurs. He grips her hips and easily lifts her up, twisting them to press her back to the cushions. She squeaks, then grins as he presses into her, spreading herself as wide as she can. Magnus grabs her knee and presses it up towards her chest and she writhes as he sinks in deeper with the change in position.

He murmurs against her neck, pressing forward into her. He pushes a hard rhythm, fast and deep that has her shouting against him as she lifts herself up off the cushions. He drops her knee in favor of slipping one hand behind her back, the spread of his hand wide against the small of her back as she hooks her ankles around his waist.

“Magnus, Magnus, please,” she whines.

He scrapes his teeth against the spot behind her ear, thrusting hard against her as she trembles and rocks up rhythmically against him, her orgasm tightening her body around him. He feels heat begin to build against the back of his neck, in the pit of his stomach and he moans against her ear. She tugs his hair and he’s gone, rocking into her as he comes, whining her name.

He falls slack against her, and her hands are still in his hair, stroking languidly as she rolls up into him in the aftershocks, and he turns his head to kiss her. It’s lazy and messy, but she cups his face and pets his sideburns as they pull away, and the smile on her face is blindingly sweet.

“We can make our way to bed for round two,” he offers, and she laughs, kissing his nose.

“As long as we can stay here until I can feel my toes again,” she murmurs, lips pressed against the apex of his scar.

“Yeah,” he murmurs. “Of course.”

She pats his cheek with a warm hand and grins; “And Magnus? Next time, we put the dogs up _before_ we have sex, you hear?”

He grins so hard his cheeks hurt at the promise of next time. “Yeah,” he says roughly, “Yeah. Of course.”


End file.
